


The End.

by ghostea



Series: Delimpcol's Rare Pair Creation Challenge Fics [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little too late, Balthazar's death, Discovery of Love, M/M, Mentions of Purgatory, ghost angel, sort of unrequited love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:34:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7654006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostea/pseuds/ghostea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Balthazar realises a little too late what the emotion was that he felt towards the youngest Winchester.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End.

Balthazar felt that if his heart needed to beat then it would have palpitating, that his vessels blood would be rushing in his ears and his vision would tunnel. But it didn’t. That didn’t mean he didn’t feel the rush of emotions. The freezing fear of death that wound his grace tight, the flickering hope that Castiel would let him live, that they were friends. Bittersweet resignation as he knew that if Castiel wanted him dead then he soon would be, there memories they shared together of times long ago in Heaven, the new ones he had created on Earth with and without his dearest brother. He would not fight against Castiel, not when he had a part of his home with him again. Castiel was the only one besides himself that he cared about on this god forsaken planet. 

Balthazar did not hate humans but he certainly didn’t like them, they polluted and corrupted but then again, so did he. Except he was a celestial being whereas they were pathetic creatures beneath him. Sure some had been manageable, not Dean, no. Dean had driven him up the wall and whilst he respected the Winchesters adopted father it was Sam he liked most.

Sam was confusing to the seraph. His soulless state was different to most humans who went on murdering rampages. Sam had control and drive, much like his past self except the filter of emotions that dragged him down so much had been removed. He was ferocious, calculating, violent and cruel. Blood soaked that man’s hands and he didn’t care whose it was. Whilst the soulless creature calling itself Sam had been an interesting study, Balthazar had been stumped by the Sam with a soul.

When he had first seen its shattered being he wanted to be sick, the soul was screams were barely concealed by a thin layer of Death’s power. If it was the best Death could do then there was no hope for the man. And yet he marched on. He struggled to save everyone around him, to save Castiel from his descent and yet at the same time help him win the war in heaven in whatever way he could. Balthazar wanted to be repulsed by the compassionate human. Wanted to snarl at him like he did Dean and push away the man’s small advances of kindness and friendship. 

It had been so subtle at first that even he hadn’t noticed it as what it was meant to be, he doubted that Sam did either. Nicer whiskey being bought instead of the usual piss they drank, his summoning incantation being whispered strongly but softly, so gentle that Balthazar was always a little shocked at his sudden displacement from being summoned around. Prayers directed at him and only him, starting as little side notes that ‘he hopes he wasn’t causing too much trouble’ and ‘I hope you’re doing well in whatever you’re doing’ it later evolved into longer things, sometimes questions and small chatter that he never answered yet, for some reason, never pushed away. That should have really been his first signal to kick the dust and run. But he stayed.

Later, alongside the prayers and smaller comforts, Sam tried to talk to him outside of the private prayers, to invite him to go drinking with them, to ask about his missions, questions about his general well-being and so forth. Balthazar had subconsciously summed it up to Sam being a sentimental, compassionate idiot.  


And yet he was fascinated.

Balthazar knew that Sam understood the vast difference between them and yet still asked him to join them drinking like they had been friends for years. Sam was many things that on anyone else would have meant nothing to Balthazar and yet he didn’t understand _why Sam was_. Sam was important to him. Somehow. He wasn’t entirely sure. He wanted to make sure the man stayed safe, to casually banter with him instead of trading snide whipping remarks like he did with Dean. He wanted to make sure that the wall never broke and that the man didn’t weep for too long and too hard over the monstrosities he caused as a soulless creature. That he would stop being so damn self-sacrificing to all these mud monkeys and _live_. Live. He wanted Sam to live and be happy.

Balthazar felt a melancholy pain grip at his grace at the thought that his last thoughts were of Sam and Sam would never know that he cared. Would probably end up thinking that Balthazar was a good-for-nothing angel just like his big, older brother said. 

It almost beat the pain of the knife sinking into his back.

“Castiel” he whispered, feeling his grace screaming and writhing in pain as it began to burn out, grace pushing out from his vessel like silver, watery tears.  
He thought of nothing but pain as his wings burnt away, as he screamed at the hidden sky, as he fell back onto his dear friend, the angel blade twisting a little within him every time his vessel twitched.

And all too soon it was over.

Death loomed over him. Literally this time, rather than metaphorically.

“I love him” Death nodded

“Yes, you did” Balthazar frowned with puzzlement and indignation at Death’s words as he stared up from where his vessel had crumpled to the ground.

“I still do” Death did nothing, Balthazar wanted to squirm under the powerful gaze, this time he was the insect and Death was the great, powerful being. 

“So what happens now?” Balthazar asked quietly, watching as the still-alive Castiel moved stoically from his fallen body. 

“What do you want to happen?” Balthazar frowned in puzzlement again

“I have a choice?”

“We always have a choice” The once-angel laid there for what felt like both years and seconds.

“I want to watch over him, Sam, I want to watch over Sam” Death nodded and Balthazar sucked in a breath he really didn’t need, already thinking he knew the answer to what he was about to ask

“And when, when Sam leaves this world for the next, when Sam dies, can I join him?” Death shook his head

“No” Balthazar felt the horrible human feeling of wanting to cry and scream all at once

“Why?” he asked quietly, his throat closing up after his words as tears began to well in his eyes.

“Angels are different to humans, Humans go to Heaven” 

“Then where do the angels go?” Death gave him a look that said it all, it spoke of eternal suffering and fighting, grey landscapes and thick blood.

“Oh”

“If you wait a minute you’ll find that you’re friend here will be joining you”

“Will I be able to see him? Interact with him?” Balthazar grieved at the fact his dearest friend and brother was soon to die. But he didn’t know what he’d do the next time he saw him face-to-face.

“No” Balthazar felt like he should have guessed that really, he wasn’t entirely sure if it was death itself that made the dead more sarcastic or if that was just himself seeping back in as the shock of death oozed away.

They waited in silence and Balthazar watched what happened next unfold with a sort of twisted, morbid curiosity. He _felt_ Castiel die. He couldn’t see him and Death made no notion that he could either however he suspected Death had probably already finished his talk with Castiel. Balthazar followed after them, walking alongside Sam who stumbled like a new-born colt, watching with fear as Sam’s eyes kept peering around like someone was about to jump out at him and commit things worse than death itself. Death himself had left long ago with his usual blank, bored look. Balthazar wouldn’t say he missed him.

Balthazar mourned Castiel’s death quietly. Knowing that his angelic brother would be on the other side to meet him someday. Right now he had something to do. Someone to protect.

He watched Sam fall deeper and deeper into his madness, as Sam’s mind twisted his thoughts against him to create cruel images that had the human pushing himself to the brink of Death. Balthazar talked to Sam casually as he went about his day from motel to psychiatric ward. He knew that Sam could perhaps hear him, even if it was a little, he whispered the name of the leviathans when Castiel’s vessel had imploded in the water and Sam had heard him. He had been able to help Sam research in the smallest of ways that frustrated Balthazar, even if it got the hunter done quicker so he had more time to rest. That was before his hallucinations had gotten worse. Now it seemed like Sam was ignoring his voice as well as the ones his mind produced themselves. It hurt more than Balthazar could bear.

So he pretended. He pretended that Sam could hear him. He pretended that they were happy and that they weren’t sat together on a mental ward bed, sharing long silences and that Balthazar’s form didn’t slip through Sam’s whenever he tried to hold him close as the human flinched from sounds only he could hear. He pretended that Sam loved him back. He pretended that Sam knew he cared. He pretended that when Sam died he would get to be with him this time. He pretended. He pretended. _He pretended._

But he was getting weaker.

He could feel it. 

Angels weren’t meant to stay in limbo like this for so long. They had no real reason to before. Balthazar could feel himself flicker in and out of this limbo state, feel the creeping greyness of the accursed once domain of the leviathans. It made him ache in a way he never had before, that he would never have any sort of happy life with Sam. That even if death they couldn’t be together. He had cried more than once as he watched Sam live on without him, that he would never know that Balthazar cared, he cared and loved this self-destructive, compassionate, strong human. He loved him.

Love hurts.

He knew it was his final day with Sam when Castiel appeared with Dean and some demon in tow. He whispered and wept to Castiel to fix Sam, to let him live a little better, to end his suffering. He begged the man who could not see him, cursed their father in raising Castiel from the grave and not him, he could save Sam, he could _love_ Sam.

“I love you” he whispered to the now-healing human, expecting no reply and receiving none as he slipped away.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was okay, I tried to get really angsty but I'm not so sure it worked as well as I wanted it too. Oh well. Poor Balthazar and Sam, I'll be sure to write a happy one for them soon to make up for this. This was for the rare pair creations challenge, this months theme was Edgar Allen Poe's works and the poem this fic was inspired from was 'Imitation'.


End file.
